Little Timmy woke up one morning desperate to pee.

He bounded out of bed and hurtled across the landing to the main bathroom. Eager not to cause an upset, he carefully prised open the bathroom door.
In the bathroom, Timmy's sister, Lucy, was shaving her legs. Unfortunately, she caught a spot on her razor, causing a stab of pain. Blood started to trickle all down her shin.
"Oh, you cunt." muttered Lucy.
Curious little Timmy poked his head through the door. "Lucy, what does 'cunt' mean?"
Timmy's aggravated sister shot a glare at her little brother. "It's another word for legs. Now get out and give me some peace!" Lucy reached over for the toilet paper to try to dam the blood, while Timmy wisely made himself scarce.
Timmy was still in an urgent need of bladder relief, so he decided to hop over to his Mum and Dad's bedroom to see if the toilet next door was available.
In the master bedroom, Timmy's father was rushing to get ready for work. More specifically, he was rifling through his drawers trying to find a matching pair of socks. Triumphant, he energetically slammed the drawer shut, right on to his left hand.
"Oh, bollocks!" he yelled, wincing and grabbing his paw.
Inquisitive little Timmy had watched the whole incident through a crack in the door. He peered his head round and chirped "Dad, what does 'bollocks' mean?"
Timmy's quick-thinking father darted his gaze over to his youngest and smiled "Hey little man! 'Bollocks' is just another word for fingers! Would you mind going downstairs while Daddy gets ready for his job? There's a good sport!"
Timmy slunked out of the doorway. Knowing he didn't have long to go before wetting himself, he hopped down the stairs to use the downstairs toilet.
To his relief he found it was unoccupied and he helped himself to a much-needed pee.
Once he finished up he skipped over to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.
In the kitchen Mum was frantically trying to get everything ready for the morning. The latest task on her list was trying to feed the family dog, who was skating around the kitchen with a sense of urgency that animals normally reserve for when they are on fire.
Mum managed to fork a handful of dog food into the bowl before the dog gave it an energetic kick, spraying flecks of processed chicken and jelly over Mum's pyjamas.
"Oh, you fucking dog..." whined Timmy's mother in desperation.
Curious Timmy looked at his mother in puzzlement. "Mummy, what does 'fucking' mean?"
Timmy's mother looked at Timmy, embarrased and frustrated at being caught hurling an expletive in front of her young son.
"Oh, it's just another way of saying 'feeding', sweetie..."
Timmy's mother was thankfully saved by the doorbell.
"Hey, why don't you see who's at the door sweetheart? I think it's your grandma!"
Excitedly, Timmy sprinted to the front door and strained to open the top latch. Sure enough, it was Timmy's dear old grandmother, with a sweet grin on her face for her beloved little grandson.
"Hello Timmy! Are you the only one up? Where is the rest of the family?"
Timmy stood proudly at the door and exclaimed "Well, Lucy is in the bathroom shaving her cunt, Daddy's just trapped his bollocks in a drawer, and Mummy's in the kitchen fucking the dog."